


Twinkling Bright (Jaskier x Female!Reader)

by crimsonheart01



Series: 12 Days of Ficmas 2020 [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Holidays, Mead, Taverns, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Ugly Sweaters, Wintery fluff, ale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonheart01/pseuds/crimsonheart01
Summary: Jaskier enjoys a night of ale and storytelling, only to wake up in a sweater that isn't his.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Female Character(s), Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader, jaskier - Relationship
Series: 12 Days of Ficmas 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056347
Kudos: 6
Collections: You In The Story Bro





	Twinkling Bright (Jaskier x Female!Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my first Witcher anything! AHHHHH how exciting. Thank you for coming along on this journey with me! Requested by my lovely, [@juniperjane](https://juniperjane.tumblr.com/). This Bard has a strong hold on my heart. I love him so much! Geralt too, but that’s a different kind of hold *smirk* 
> 
> Prompt: “How much for the ugly Christmas sweater?”
> 
> Word Count: 2.0K words
> 
> Playlist: _Like It’s Christmas - Jonas Brothers [[Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/1OjmlSFuzYflWjSMTCyTJv?si=7iX8LQFOSJ6vfR2vW4Pd1g)] [[YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIyE3IrC7r0)]_
> 
> Warnings: Mead and Ale consumption, tavern shenanigans!

_“Look at the lights  
Twinkling bright  
Twenty-four seven  
Every inch of Central Park  
Is covered in white  
This could be heaven.”  
_ _Like It’s Christmas – Jonas Brothers_

Jaskier jolted awake and regretted the motion instantly. He groaned, lifting a hand to his face. Finding no strength in his arms, he let his hand fall onto his face and scrubbed it down roughly. He kept his eyes closed and squeezed them in a grimace. His head was pounding, and there was a putrid taste in his mouth. He opened his mouth, smacking his lips together before frowning.

His mouth felt full of cotton and his throat parched. It felt as if he’d drank the entire tavern the night before. Inching his head to the right, he chanced, peeking through one eye, taking in the room he was currently housed in. It appeared that at some point, while he was still of sound enough mind, he managed to solidify a bed for the night. Closing his eye again, he racked his brain for the memory of when he paid for his room, but nothing came to light.

With a long-suffering sigh, he stretched his arms, opening his eyes as he felt a pull of whatever garment he wore over his arms. Creasing his eyebrows together, he lifted his arms into his eye line and was assaulted by a vomit green coloured jumper, barely reaching past his elbows. He turned his hands back and forth as he assessed the offending piece of clothing. It wasn’t his, and that’s all he knew for sure. He would never be caught dead in something this tacky. Bard or not, he had standards.

With another exasperated groan, he rolled over and wrapped his arms around his middle. Rolling onto his side, he tucked his head down while succumbing to the pounding in his head. With narrowed eyes, he stared at the snow-filled window across from him, allowing the sluggish recollections from the night before taking him for a ride.

* * *

**~(WITCHER)~**

* * *

He spun in circle after circle, watching as the lights from the candles and the fireplace blurred into one long stream. He laughed out loud, shouting the lyrics to his newest poem. He twirled down the aisle, strumming along to the beat in his head. He hopped up onto a bench, raising one leg to rest a foot onto the table. He swung his entire arm in an exaggerated strum of his lute. Pausing for dramatic effect, he stared around at the crowd, ensuring that he kept them captive in his story.

With the neck of his lute clenched in one fist, he raised both hands over his head, hummed out the next few notes and then began clapping his hands together. Rekindling the beat and with a grand smile, he urged the patrons of the establishment to join in with him. As the raucous rhythm evened out, he jumped into the table, repositioned his lute and fingered several quick notes. His voice rose above the noise, and he was met with cheers and clangs of heavy pints being hit together.

With a jaunty step, he danced down the center of the table. He spared more than a few winks to the lovely maidens watching while sharing in a lecherous chuckle with a few men along the way. He paused to accept an offered cup of ale and downed it in one go while being cheered on. With an exaggerated wipe across his mouth, he slammed the mug down on the table. The men closest to him pat his back in solidarity and acceptance.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he continued pleasing the masses with tales of the fabled Geralt of Rivia. The myth, the legend, the Witcher. Jaskier continued to shout his famous tales to those who would listen. He dropped down into a seat, allowing those near to him to bow forward and using his hands, he painted a picture of the beasts defeated by the storied man of the hour.

The night wore on, the mead running free and the bread served up, keeping his belly warm. He loved this particular time of year. He could count on several days of free food and mead, even without having to resort to telling tall, however mostly true, tales.

He reclined in his chair, moving to take a swig of his drink but missed and sloshed the contents all down the front of him. With a sad groan, he accepted his fate and let his hand hang. Swaying from side to side, with hooded eyes, he listened to the crackling of the fire. Content to sit in this spot for the remainder of his stay. Tonight had been a great night. He knew there was plenty of coin in his purse, but more than that, it was a warm place to hunker down the storm outside.

He wasn’t going anywhere. No, not tonight.

* * *

**~(WITCHER)~**

* * *

She pulled at one of his arms, ducking down and strapping it along her shoulders. The tankard of ale in his other hand teetered, sloshing the liquid within over the rim and down the front of his tunic. She chuckled to herself at the state of the minstrel.

“Come on, Bard.” She grunted under his dead weight, “Time for you to call it a night.”

She dragged him along, not bothering to listen to the mumblings he was rambling. As they walked towards the stairs, he caught on to the fact that they were moving and made his best attempt to mime walking. She was doing all the heavy lifting, but that was to be expected after the night he’d had. She spent a fair amount of time switching his drinks with water, but it appeared that hadn’t been enough to keep his drunkenness at a minimum.

They climbed the stairs in a messy heap. She used the wall to lean against while she all but dragged the man up each step behind her. Reaching the middle landing, she needed to pause, wiping her sweaty brow from the exertion. How was it possible that the bard weighed this much? Not wanting to lose all her steam, she fisted her skirts into her free hand and began dragging him upwards again. 

As she swung around the bannister, his head accidentally met the wall, and he cursed before laughing at himself. She listened as he went through a short monologue, making it exceptionally clear to her that he had no idea she was there nor that she was carrying him up to a free room. Shaking her head with amused annoyance, she continued.

Reaching the room, she shoved him through the door and towards the bed. As he fell back, he spread his arms out and plopped down onto the boxed bed below him. He let out a sigh of content and laid there with his legs hanging over the edge. She waited for a long moment to see if he’d acknowledge her, but nothing came.

Giving him a once over, and deciding he’d passed out cold, she shrugged to herself before leaning in and rummaging through his pockets for the coins she knew he’d collected throughout the night. Picking out the correct amount for the room, she tipped the rest back into their place. As she moved to back away, she felt his warm fingers curl around her wrist.

In preparation to scold him for trying to get out of paying for his stay, she was stunned into silence when he pointed to her with his other hand. She watched as his mouth moved, but no sound came out. It was obvious he was thinking about something difficult. She widened her eyes as she waited for him to form the words he was concentrating hard on.

**“How much for the ugly Christmas sweater?”** He slurred, pushing his finger closer towards her to emphasize his pointing.

She looked down at her buttoned overcoat and had to stifle a laugh. He kept up a glazed stare in her direction, entirely too serious about wanting her clothing item.

With a sigh, she rubbed the coins in her hand together, “Already paid for bard.”

He gave her an approved pout and then patted the bed next to him, “Just leave that there then.”

She stuffed her mouth against the back of her other hand at his air of utter importance at the transaction. As if he was a wealthy lord making a bargain on this sale. Choosing to take pity on him, she swiftly worked through the buttons and folded the coat next to him on his bed before backing out of the room. Closing the door behind her, she stopped to admire the silver she’d collected and smiled. Tonight had been a good night.

* * *

**~(WITCHER)~**

* * *

Scratching his head and feeling a bubble form in the center of his chest, Jaskier finally made his way down the stairs into the musty tavern. It was midday, but there was little to no one milling around. He stepped up to the bar and sat down, laying his effects on the stool next to him before bowing entirely and laying his forehead flat onto the surface.

A light chuckle caught his attention, and he inched his head to the left, looking up to see a striking woman who bore a vague familiarity in his unconscious mind. He blinked in an attempt to clear his mind but came up blank. Her laugh came ringing out again as if she knew that he couldn’t remember who she was.

“Rough night?” She commented, folding her rag over her hands before returning to the counter to continue wiping it down.

He let out a strangled groan, “You have no idea.”

“Ha!” She scoffed, without looking in his direction, “I think I have a better idea than you do.”

He inhaled audibly before closing his eyes again. The pounding in his head crowded his thoughts to the point where he couldn’t confidently think anything at all, except for how uncomfortable he was. He continued to lay there, succumbing to his own misery, when there was a light clink next to his ear. Dragging his eyelids open again, he spotted the metal mug sitting in front of him. The woman was leaning into the bar, watching him with quiet amusement.

“Drink it.” She encouraged.

He stared at her, conveying his confusion. He had no idea what she was offering him, and it would be unbecoming to accept a drink from a stranger, especially after his previous night.

“It’s water,” She reassured him.

With narrowed eyes, he pushed himself up to a sitting position before taking her offered peace offering and chugged it. With a smack of his lips, he placed the mug down, and she immediately refilled it. She silently observed him as he sipped at the next cupful.

“Nice outfit,” She smirked.

He immediately looked down and was assaulted again with the hideous green coloured overcoat he’d forgotten to take off. Judging by the coy grin on her mouth and the fact that the garment was two sizes too small, he figured it was hers. Gathering up his bearings, he pulled out every ounce of charm he had left in him and granted her a flirtatious smile.

“I take it I can thank you for this grotesque green number?” He quipped.

Her mouth dropped open in feigned shock at his jest, but her smile won out over. With a shake of her head and another laugh, she settled for keeping him company.

“I’ll admit, it matches your complexion this morning much more than it would mine.” She winked at him before stepping around the bar and waving a hand out to a small two-seater table, “How about you get some food and drink into you, and we’ll piece together the entirety of your night together?”

Not needing to be asked twice, he grabbed his things and followed behind her. He found himself grinning ear to ear despite his horrific hangover.


End file.
